


Human Talents

by kangamangus (orphan_account)



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Allergies, Bad Flirting, Bloodlust, Consent, Fade to Black, Flirting, M/M, One Night Stands, Roughness, Sexual Content, Sneezing, Undressing, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:59:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kangamangus
Summary: A Viking vampire witnesses a necromancer doing something very human and weak, and decides he likes it. He can’t kill the human, so naturally he decides to do the next best thing: proposition him.





	Human Talents

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post on Tumblr suggesting that Hector knows Godbrand has sex with everyone he meets because the two of them had a one night stand. This is how the one night stand came to be. Sexual in tone, but fades to black. 
> 
> Fair warning, Godbrand basically decides he wants Hector because Hector has an allergic reaction, and he's allured by that human weakness. Also, Godbrand blurs the line between lust and the desire to feed. Don't read this if you find any of that weird.

Contrary to popular opinion, Godbrand is no fool. Yes, he embraces some of his baser instincts with enthusiasm, but why not? He has many long years under his belt, years that have taught him to embrace his strengths, enjoy his kills, milk humans of their blood, and fuck freely. If he is to exist for such a long time, he sure as hell is going to make the most of it, enjoying every moment that he possibly can, with a fresh kill in hand and within the lingering buzz of an orgasm.

He isn’t stupid, though. His reputation might suggest otherwise, but he never would have managed successful raids by land and sea if he were a moron. Hence why, when he arrives at the castle and senses that warm tangy smell — unshed blood, sweat and something a little subtle and animalistic — wafting his way, he knows to hold his teeth and his dick, so to speak, until he finds out why a human is in Dracula’s castle.

He isn’t going to hold his tongue, though. Never that, because he’s entitled to his fucking opinions.

He shoves his way over to the man, who looks composed despite the company of the hall, and demands to know, “What the hell are you doing here?”

The man looks at him calmly, clearly not at all intimidated by Godbrand, which is both intriguing and annoying. “I was invited,” he replies, and then has the audacity to introduce himself. “Hector. I am to be a general, just like you.”

“What!” Godbrand yells. None of the other vampires look his way, as they are accustomed to his outbursts and loud behavior. Hector merely raises his eyebrows a touch, but still seems unaffected. “A human general! Of an undead army!” He scoffs with outrage. Dracula surely must be losing it, to grant a human such a high position. If he doesn’t kill this fragile man, someone else will, very soon.

“I have my talents,” the man states simply, then turns away. That irks Godbrand. Clearly, this man is forgetting that he is at a great disadvantage.

Using his own talents, Godbrand moves faster than the human can follow and cuts him off from his path with an outstretched arm and a hard punch into the stone wall. The resounding boom attracts a few onlookers this time, and Godbrand hams it up for the crowd. “This human seems to think he has a few talents. What do you think those talents are?”

A few of the nearby vampires murmur, a couple of them licking lips and fangs as they consider the question. Hector, meanwhile, finally looks a little annoyed, his eyes hardening as he takes a step back to avoid standing too close to Godbrand’s outstretched arm.

“If you kill me,” he warns, “Dracula will not be pleased.” Despite the new displeasure in his features, the man is still calm. It would be impressive, if his composure hadn’t already gotten under Godbrand’s skin.

“Who said anything about killing?” Godbrand asks. “We can have some fun without killing you.”

Now Hector gives him a belittling look, the kind that gives Godbrand the impression that he’s about to be treated like a child. “Look,” he begins, “I—” But then something happens. Hector cuts off his speech and a changes arrests his face. He slides from confident to unsure for a brief but enjoyable moment, and then he wrinkles his nose. The whole display reeks of humanity; Godbrand could sink his teeth into the man’s throat right then and there, to taste the blood that allows the man to shift so easily from calm to rippled.

“You...?” Godbrand probes with an urging gesture of his hand.

“What is that?” Hector returns, forgoing the previous conversation entirely. He sniffs and attempts to compose himself, but he can’t smooth out his face entirely, a hint of frown still present.

“What’s what?” Godbrand asks.

“That…” The man pauses again, but his broken speech is even more interesting this time, because he takes a sudden, arresting breath, an involuntary gasp that Godbrand likens to a man who has just tested the icy waters of the sea. Only there is no sea here; it is something else that has seized this man, and Godbrand wants to know what it is. But Hector recovers, just as before, and doesn’t seem to realize how weak he looked in that previous moment. “Smell. It smells like the earth. Like trees. But with a burn behind it.”

Ah, now Godbrand knows what he means. He smiles a little proudly, because that is a wonderful compliment for the scent of his homeland, which he and his fellow Vikings used to adorn themselves with before battle, dabbing the oil on their wrists as a symbolic way of guiding their weapons. Godbrand wears it today, with a little extra behind the ears, for this initiation of war, and for old time’s sake. It reminds him of the good days, of blood and screams and the rocking of a boat beneath him.

“This?” he asks, and he moves his arm away from the wall to wave it in front of Hector’s face, back and forth like a taunt, since the smell is so unappetizing to him. “Juniper. I’m not surprised that a human like you would find its smell repulsive. It is the smell of victory.”

He finishes his sentence, but only half-heartedly, because Hector doesn’t seem to be listening. In fact, he looks to be downright struggling, taking another step back, face now fully drained of composure. “D-Don't —” he tries to protest, raising his hand to rub at his nose with fervor, as though he would remove it, if he could. Something Godbrand would be open to helping him with, should he ask.

Usually, Godbrand has something to say in every situation, but all he wants to do right now is watch this man crumple before his eyes, to give into the weakness that is ailing him and resurface broken and weak. He laughs for show, but his attention is captivated.

He isn’t sure that Hector even hears the laugh, not with the way he struggles to breathe, each inhalation seemingly more difficult than the last. His eyes flutter closed and Godbrand thinks about how absolutely vulnerable that leaves him, how he could easily move in on him and —

Hector sneezes, attempting to shield it with the back of his wrist. He gasps quickly, then tenses again immediately, sneezing three more times, rapidly, each one commanding Hector’s entire body as though it isn’t his own.

It isn’t the first time Godbrand has witnessed a human sneeze, though the occasions are rare, as the threat of a vampire has a way of scaring the need right out of people. But it is the first time he has seen so many at once, so quickly, rendering a human so defenseless. He suddenly has a hunger so strong he has to physically stop himself for rushing forward as Hector sniffs with a dazed series of blinks, and then wipes away a tear that threatens to fall.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs politely. The way he says it, with hindered consonants and another telltale sniff, does nothing to abate Godbrand’s urges.

He can’t kill him, no matter how much he longs to, but there is something he can do.

“Every time you do that, you’re reminding all of us that you are a weak human,” Godbrand warns Hector. “You should leave the hall.”

Hector seems in no mood to argue, as his breath hitches dangerously again for a moment. “You’re right,” he relents, glancing at onlookers, composing himself, and walking to the exit with only a sniffle in his wake.

A sniffle and a vampire.

Godbrand tails him.

“Go back,” Hector commands after a moment. He finally, finally he sounds angry, openly so, as he glances back. “Or better yet, go take a bath. I assume you haven’t had one in a while.”

“You’re just angry because a little oil got the better of you,” Godbrand replies. “Weakness is human. I understand why you’re ashamed.”

“I’m not ashamed, I’m…” Godbrand only has a view of Hector’s back, but he sees the tension take over his frame, his shoulders lift, and then watches as he jerks forward with a sneeze and a shuddering exhale. “I’m trying to breathe.”

“Breathing is also human,” Godbrand tells him, smiling at his back, exposing his fangs in a predatory fashion.

Hector makes a noise of disgust, or at least he tries to, but the sound is nasal and thick, and he has to sniff immediately after.

“You know, they say orgasms help clear the sinuses,” Godbrand says, with all the subtlety of a warship. Hector stops walking. Clears his throat. Turns, and shows Godbrand that his nose is slightly pink, his eyes are watery, and he is very surprised.

And unsure of himself. Godbrand wants to laugh at such a sight, but he also wants to fuck this human who he cannot eat, so he doesn’t give into the temptation.

“You can’t be serious,” Hector replies.

“I’m always serious!” Godbrand replies. “Godbrand the Serious, they used to call me that!”

“That’s…a horrible pickup line,” Hector informs him.

But he isn’t backing away, and Godbrand takes that as an invitation. _Why yes, Viking vampire, you may enter me,_ he thinks in his head, but has enough sense not to state it out loud. Instead, he approaches Hector, leans in close, and whispers, “I happen to like human weakness.” And to make his point, he brushes his thumb against Hector’s nose, feels it scrunch in response, and hears up close and personal the way the human’s heartbeat quickens, the way his chest rises and falls.

Hector pulls back and turns away just in time to sneeze again, a wrenching, more congested sneeze. Godbrand exercises all the restraint he can, and waits, because if the man’s pulse is anything to go by, he is excited, whether he wants to be or not.

“You aren’t going to try and feed on me?” Hector asks as he recovers, turning back, definitely looking as though he is about to give in.

“Maybe a little taste,” Godbrand replies, flashing a fang. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

Hector rolls his eyes, but walks toward his room, and allows Godbrand to follow. When he arrives at the door, he turns to find Godbrand already removing the armor plate from his shoulder. Now that they have settled on this, he will waste no time.

“Get on the bed,” he tells Hector.

“I can already tell I am going to regret this,” Hector says to himself. Then, to Godbrand, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of foreplay?” Still, he slips off his boots.

Godbrand is very accustomed to getting clothes off quickly, so he is already naked. “You want romance?” he asks, and he shoves Hector back toward the bed just as Hector is working on his shirt. Godbrand shoves his hands away and tears his shirt right off of him.

“Wait—” Hector protests as he falls onto the bed, shirt in tatters.

“I’m romancing you,” Godbrand informs him, tearing at his pants next.

“This is the opposite of romance,” Hector argues. “I am fairly certain this is more like assault.”

But when his clothes are in pieces and he is laying beneath Godbrand on the bed with frowning eyes and a crinkling nose, his interest is apparent, and Godbrand grins down at it, stating, “You don’t look like a victim.”

Hector raises himself up on his elbows and says, “That’s because I’m not one.”

He doesn’t expect it. He should, but Godbrand took Hector’s consent for granted, fell for the weakness he showed as he sneezed and sniffled, and forgot that Hector was a human who mere moments ago, stood in a room filled with vampires without the slightest hint of fear. He doesn’t expect it, and that’s how he ends up, somehow, off balance, his leg kicked from under him, his body shoved face down into the soft mattress, with Hector above him, stating, “You don’t get to have a taste. Not one drop. And this?” Hector leans forward and presses his nose against Godbrand’s neck, sniffs deeply, which immediately leads into a series of broken, desperate gasps.

Hector talks through them. “Is… _hihhh_ …n-no… _heh-ehh!_ …weakness.”

Godbrand could easily flip back into place. He could shove this human against the wall, or slit his throat, or grab the arm that is trying to hold him down and suck all of the blood from his veins. He could demand the taste that Hector denies and force him to give in.

But Godbrand is a simple vampire, with simple desires, and right now, he desires very much to get fucked by this human, while the human wears his weakness as a fucking taunt as he pounds him into the bed, reminding him of everything he cannot take.

So he moans, and it’s his only response, his relinquishing of control as Hector presses into him, lets him feel that he wants the same thing as he sneezes against Godbrand’s shoulder.

It’s Godbrand who shudders, then, not Hector. Hector is too busy rubbing his nose against Godbrand’s skin, breath hitching and warming Godbrand in the way that only a human can.

“Fuck me,” Godbrand finally begs, because he can’t take it anymore, he wants feel Hector’s humanity as closely as possible.

“Be patient,” Hector murmurs, and then sneezes again.


End file.
